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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30131397">MacGyver² - Sanity</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppalachianApologies/pseuds/AppalachianApologies'>AppalachianApologies</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Double Vision [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>MacGyver (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, Episode: s04e10 Tesla + Bell + Edition + Mac, Hurt/Comfort, If I could I'd put in Angus MacGyver twice for characters, Little bit of a mental breakdown you know how it be, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, On a scale of one to stable mac is Not, Team as Family, Very suspicious drugs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:31:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,511</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30131397</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppalachianApologies/pseuds/AppalachianApologies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The DMT dreamscape was weird, and slightly painful. At least it's over. Right?</p><p>...Right?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Double Vision [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2221824</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>MacGyver² - Sanity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! Hi sorry for the lack of posts and stuff. Relapsed about two weeks ago and then I just took a break from writing because I finished a book and yeh that's not important lmao. The point is, I'm here now! And I've always loved the DMT episode, even though it's kinda a questionably written episode, I'm just such a sucker for that type of whump and then also being able to delve inside the characters' minds, so I wanted to write something about it!</p><p>There are some intrusive thoughts that could be hinted at thoughts of suicide, but it's never explicitly mentioned. In fact, this trigger warning is probably more explicit than the fic. Please take care of yourselves!</p><p>Enjoy! :D</p><p>(PS: A special thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightTerror/pseuds/BrightTerror">BrightTerror</a> for letting me scream to her about my random ideas! You're the best :D)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Mac woke with his shoulder and neck aching, as if he slept on the deck last night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However rising, he knows that he’s in his bed. It doesn’t feel like his bed, though. It feels… soft. It feels like home. His bed hasn’t felt like home in ages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hell, his home hasn’t felt like home in ages. Not since- No.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s not important.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light shining through the curtains curl around his room, bending with each wall, and for nearly a minute, Mac stays perfectly still watching the dust float through them. It looks like it’s sparkling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Mac finally stands to go to the kitchen, he wishes that he didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her smile is just as bright has he remembered. “Hi, honey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In all honesty, Mac doesn’t know how he’s not falling over right now. “Why- how? What’s happening?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry,” Ellen shakes her head, “You don’t need to worry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like being shot in the gut, Mac is forcibly pushed back twelve hours, Desi’s words filtering through his brain. “...I thought I woke up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You fell back to sleep again. Desiree took you home, don’t you remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swallowing, Mac sinks down into the sofa. “So this is all a dream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, Ellen moves closer to him. “I wouldn’t call it that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what is this, mom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom,” Mac starts, the word sounding oh so foreign on his tongue, “Why are you here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The same reason I was at the party. To help you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking his head, Mac questions, “What do I need help with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sweetheart, what don’t you need help with?” Chuckling, Ellen continues, “Oh, don’t give me that look. You know that you’ve been struggling. For quite some time, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Staying quiet for a few moments, neither confirming nor denying her statement, Mac sighs, “The DMT never left my system, did it? Not all the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Experimental drugs are finicky like that. I don’t mind, though. I wanted more time with you. And I know you feel the same,” She adds with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning to fully face his mom, Mac takes in all of her features. Just like the picture that used to be on the mantelpiece, she’s dressed in old college clothes, wrinkled and faded with time. “But it’s not really you. It’s just my brain making you up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know that I’m just a piece of your brain?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because-” Mac cuts himself off with a frustrated sigh, before rubbing a hand through his hair. “Because you’re dead, mom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a soft smile, Ellen points out, “You have no idea what happens after death. Nobody living does. We don’t just… leave forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is just my brain trying to comfort me,” Mac mutters, closing his eyes. “That’s all it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even if it is, Angus, why not humor me. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although he opens his eyes, Mac doesn’t look back at her. “How many hours until the DMT goes through my system?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like I said, experimental drugs are a finicky thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not an answer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally standing up from the couch, Mac turns back to his mom. “This isn’t just me dreaming. I’m not sleeping right now, am I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not quite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fully unconscious. That’s- that’s why my shoulder is sore. You can’t roll over like you can in your sleep.” When all he gets as a response is a smile, Mac feels his anxiety grow. “What? What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a short chuckle, Ellen looks down at her feet. “It’s just amazing hearing you think. Even when you were little, I knew you were destined for great things. Your mind, Angus, it’s amazing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac doesn’t know how to even digest that information, let alone find a way to respond to it. So he does the best next thing, and just continues on. “The way to wake up is from a surge of adrenaline.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, Ellen confirms, “Same thing when you hit the ground in your dreams.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you said this wasn’t a dream?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a lot of things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sudden laugh, Mac questions, “What does that even mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure,” Ellen grins back. “I’m just happy to be with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve wanted to be back with you since I left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking his head, Mac points out, “It’s not like you had a choice,” Before frowning. “Were you… were you actually killed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cryptically, Ellen answers, “There were a lot of problems. File 47 was one of them, but so was breast cancer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>sick?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” She nods, “James didn’t lie about that. Your memories haven’t betrayed you. But there was also a hit out on me.” With a sad smile, Ellen continues, “So even if one of those didn’t get me,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The other one would’ve,” Mac finishes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately, yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Digesting the information, Mac eventually adds, “Dad is dead too. It just happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, sweetie, I know. I got to see him for the first time in over twenty years. The best and the worst day of my life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, the conversation just grows more and more confusing. “You saw him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re all dead, Angus. Not you, of course. But after James died, I got to see him again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unable to stand still for any longer, Mac bites his cheeks and pushes open the back door, moving to stand on the deck. There’s a perfect sunrise outside. “I don’t have anyone left now. Now that you and dad,” He trails off, knowing that his mom can connect the dots at the end of that sentence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, sweetheart,” Ellen coos, moving to stand next to him, “You know that isn’t true. Your father and I aren’t the only ones in your life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are by blood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and I both know you haven’t relied on blood for any part of your life, Angus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bringing a light fist down on the railing, Mac points out, “Jack’s also gone. It’s been a year since he left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’ve already given up on him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? No!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly,” She sighs, “You’re not alone. Not by your friends, and not by blood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sharp huff, Mac turns to face his mom. “Because Gwen is still here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. You don’t have any of her blood. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> still here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning over his shoulder on instinct, Mac questions, “What? Who?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your last living blood relative.” With that, Ellen turns on her heel, striding out of the deck, through the house, and out the front door without another word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac moves to grab the side of her sleeve, but his bare feet can’t move from where they’re planted on the wood. It’s more powerful than any type of glue or magnet, but something is keeping him from moving. It’s only until he hears the front door close that this force releases him, causing Mac to stumble forward, just barely catching himself on a chair. “Mom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he gets in response are distant cicadas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After running to the kitchen to look out the windows, his mom is nowhere in sight. If Mac didn’t know any better, he’d say that she had just disappeared. Then again, he is in some type of weird dreamscape, so she very well might’ve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you thought this was going to save the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instantly freezing on the spot, Mac can barely bring himself to turn around. He can feel his heartbeat in his fingers and up his neck. And that’s before the torn apart microwave falls to the ground with a noise loud enough to startle the neighbors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really thought that it was going to save humanity? You’re no less naïve than when daddy left us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though he’s the same height, Mac can’t help but feel like he towers over him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No words, Angus?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breathlessly, Mac attempts to school his expression before asking, “What do you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The same thing you do. To save the world. After all, we are the same. Angus MacGyver, meet Angus MacGyver. Actually,” He corrects himself, “That’s not quite right. We have one key difference.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac grows in confidence, gritting his teeth. “Yeah? That you’d kill three billion people, and I wouldn’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That I would do anything to save humanity,” MacGyver answers, eyes cold enough to be stone. “Anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s mass genocide.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which is better, Mac? Seven billion people dying, or three billion people?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking a step forward, MacGyver’s face darkens. “That wasn’t an option.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s always another way,” Mac bites back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh really? Another way to save mommy and daddy? Another way to stop Jack from running away? Another way to save Pena? Another way to save Charlie? Tell me, Mac, do you want me to continue?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If there’s one thing Mac’s not going to let himself do, it’s cry in front of himself. No matter how close he feels to it. “I can invent something. I know I can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Out of bubble gum? We both know that it’s not possible. Not at a scale that’ll matter.” Kicking out to the since transformed broken microwave, MacGyver continues, “And definitely not this piece of junk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s an air filter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what? A fish? This wouldn’t make a dent in your house, let alone the world!” MacGyver laughs, and Mac knows that he’s right. “There’s only one solution, Mac.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking his head, Mac counters, “No. No, that’s not true. There’s always another way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to accept that it’s not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There always is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking another step forward, MacGyver spits out, “You’re naïve, Mac. You’re a child, trying to solve Auntie Gwen’s problems with Lincoln Logs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling like now wouldn’t be the best time to point out the impressive structural integrity of Lincoln Logs, Mac counters, “There’s no reason to give up. There’s still time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s time that’s killing us, Mac. Why don’t you get that? We could help. We could literally save the Earth. Not just some random diplomat in Rome, and not a blockbuster villain from Vladivostok.” When he takes one step closer, MacGyver reaches out to grab Mac’s wrist. “We could make a difference.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The difference wouldn’t matter if three billion people died in the process!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the </span>
  <em>
    <span>only </span>
  </em>
  <span>way it would matter!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yanking his arm back, Mac bites back, “You’re wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a part of you. And eventually, you’re going to understand what I’m saying. Understand the </span>
  <em>
    <span>truth,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mac.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scoffing, Mac throws his hands up. “The truth? The truth is that three billion people don’t deserve to die!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s either three billion or seven billion. It’s just the trolley problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The trolley problem isn’t real,” Mac points out. “And any philosopher will tell you that the fact that it isn’t real changes your outcome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” MacGyver shakes his head, “It changes </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>outcome. Not mine. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> know what needs to be done for this world. And because I’m you, well,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignoring his double’s devilish smile, Mac looks at the ground. “I’m never going to help Codex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to. Before you run out of time. Before seven billion deaths are on your hands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re on the hands of Codex!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>MacGyver shakes his head. “You’re wrong. Codex isn’t causing seven billion people to die. They’re saving three billion. Think about it, Mac. You could save three billion people. Before we </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>run out of time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost manically, Mac turns in a circle, hands reaching up to grip his hair. “No one’s running out of time!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They are. We are. We all are,” MacGyver calmly replies, before wincing. “Although you, more than anyone else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh- why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That headache? Building behind your eyes, running through your forehead?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Squinting, Mac questions, “How do you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not just a headache. It’s a symptom of intracranial pressure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I don’t,” MacGyver agrees, “But you do. I’m a part of you, Mac. If I know it, then somewhere, in the bottom of your heart, you know it too. We never did get checked and treated for a concussion, did we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though he can feel his heartbeat crawl up, bit by bit, Mac forces himself to stay calm. “People get headaches all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even people that are unconscious and unable to wake up? People who can’t even move, even though their shoulder is aching from laying on it for nearly, oh, eight hours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Caught by surprise, Mac quietly confirms, “I’ve been asleep for eight hours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. You’ve been unconscious for eight hours. We haven’t genuinely slept for eight hours since before MIT, you know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac clenches his teeth. “I’ll be fine when I wake up. I’ll go into the Phoenix, and I’ll be fine. The DMT is almost out of my system anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you trying to convince, Mac? Me? Yourself? The seven billion people who you’re going to kill? All of the above?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not killing anyone!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>MacGyver leans closer until he’s inches against Mac’s face. “You may as well, if you don’t do anything. You’re no better than the people holding guns to innocents’ heads.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clenching his jaw, Mac keeps the eye contact. “That’s not true. You know that’s not true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t make anything that’ll save enough people to make an impact. No matter how many paper clips you have, or how many broken relationships, you’ll never be able to fix this by yourself. Open your eyes. You know what you need to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally taking a step back, Mac shakes his head. “You’re sick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m you.” After Mac doesn’t reply, MacGyver unabashedly continues his smug smile. “You don’t even know how to wake up, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the point of all this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You might die here. Your headache will get worse, maybe mom will come back, hell, maybe even dad will come back. How does it feel, knowing that you might die?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Angrily, Mac protests, “I’m not dying! Nobody’s dying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Except for seven billion people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re not dying!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a scoff, MacGyver replies, “But they’re going to. Like I said, it’s only a matter of time. Besides, Mac, you had no trouble sacrificing one person. What’s a couple billion more?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had no other option.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly. And you think there’s another option here? What don’t you get, Mac?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac brings a hand up to his temple, rubbing it in hopes of dissipating a headache that he knows won’t go away. “Nobody has to die.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Au contraire. Sacrifices are necessary. The only reason we’re even alive is because of a sacrifice, don’t you know? Mason’s son sacrificed his life for you. It’s time to pay it back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning around, Mac balls his hands into fists. He doesn’t have to deal with this. He doesn’t have to take this. It’s fine. He’s fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Easily continuing, MacGyver says, “But I guess you’re going to have to survive this first, right? You can’t save the world if you can’t even wake up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can wake up,” Mac insists, still keeping his back to… himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you could, you would’ve already. Where’s the adrenaline, Mac?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking his head, Mac mutters, “I don’t know how to get it. There’s- there’s nothing that I need to find. Nothing that I need to figure out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what’s the plan? Use our big brains and improvise our way out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning around, Mac’s mouth falls open a bit. “Exactly. We just need to improvise. There are plenty of other ways to get adrenaline, even while unconscious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, MacGyver asks, “Remember the last time it happened? The last time we were sleeping, that is. Not earlier today. Actually, that’s yesterday now. Time flies when you’re unconscious, doesn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you getting at?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evidently cutting to the chase, MacGyver answers, “Last time we woke ourselves up from a dream was also from adrenaline. Why not find that scenario again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pausing for only a second, Mac spits out, “You’re sick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Frankly,” MacGyver starts, following Mac as he moves to the front door, “I think watching Jack die is a great way to get our adrenaline up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can just… fall off a cliff!” Mac exclaims, effectively ignoring his double. “As soon as I hit the ground, I’ll wake up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not going to work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes it is.” At least, he hopes so. There’s not much he can do if it doesn’t work. Turning on his heel, Mac heads back out to the deck, stepping to the edge of the railing. It already feels like a lifetime ago since he talked with his mom. Even looking down sends butterflies to his stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a beat, MacGyver appears next to him. “Cold feet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s going to work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re so confident, then jump. You know you want to. You know you’ve wanted to before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course this version of him would know about his intrusive thoughts. He may as well </span>
  <em>
    <span>be </span>
  </em>
  <span>his intrusive thoughts. Against all odds, MacGyver is becoming worse and worse with each second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he can gather his wits, Mac swings his leg over the edge. He can already feel his heart begin to beat faster. Good. He just needs a bit more adrenaline. Unfortunately, it seems like he’s actually going to have to take the swan dive in order to get it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Letting gravity do most of the work, Mac leans forwards, breath catching in his chest. It’s about as horrifying as his past dreams. The dirt underneath him grows closer and closer and closer until-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Told you,” MacGyver sing-songs, sounding a little too close to Murdoc.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Completely void of broken bones, Mac sits up, eyes wide. “Why didn’t it work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did tell you so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t it work?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>MacGyver shrugs, making his way down the small overhang far more elegantly than Mac previously had. “You knew it was coming. Nothing’s scary about knowing what’s happening. Real fear comes from the unknown.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dropping his shoulders, Mac knows that he’s right. “That’s why the adrenaline worked before. Because I was finding something out. Something new. The excitement of learning Tesla's key for the first time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep,” MacGyver confirms, popping the syllable. “So how’re you gonna do it this time, Mac?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Mac can formulate a plan, his phone rings. He doesn’t even remember it being in his pocket. “Hello?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mac?” His name sounds wrong. Matty usually calls him a nickname.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Matty. What’s happening?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to come in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frowning, Mac questions, “Do we have a mission?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a beat of silence, before Matty answers, “Just come in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-” The dial tone interrupts him. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From a few feet away, MacGyver shrugs. “Wonder what that was about. Let’s go figure it out!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dropping his hand to his side, Mac whispers to himself, “I’m sleeping, right? I thought I was still sleeping?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I thought that we went over the fact that you were never sleeping, just unconscious. Or is this one of those po-tay-to po-tah-to moments?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I dreaming?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t look at me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After standing still for a few more moments, Mac heads to his garage. There’s no better thing to be doing right now than listening to Matty, real or not. He flinches when MacGyver closes the door behind him. “Why are you still here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shrugging, MacGyver points out, “I don’t see you trying to get rid of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t- you can’t be here. You don’t exist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holding up his hands, MacGyver mutters, “Seems like I’m existing perfectly fine right now. Just saying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just,” Mac shakes his head, hands clutching his car keys. “Be quiet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why? It’s not like anyone else can see me. Only mom can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that stops Mac in his tracks. “Mom’s still here?” All he gets in response is a shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The twenty minute drive to the Phoenix feels wrong on so many levels, but Mac can’t quite put his finger on it. It doesn’t feel like a dream, but it has to be. Otherwise the other Mac and his mom wouldn’t have existed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it stands right now, MacGyver’s still hanging out in the passenger seat, doing nothing but putting Mac on edge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the final stoplight, Mac rolls his sore shoulder. “Whoa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your shoulder doesn’t hurt anymore, does it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m you, remember? And you’re me. Anything that you feel, I also feel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lifting up his elbow like a chicken, Mac frowns at his windshield. “Why doesn’t it hurt anymore?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought we were supposed to be smart, Mac,” MacGyver grumbles. “You’re obviously not laying on it anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So this </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>a dream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell if I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pushing that thought to the back of his thoughts for now, Mac makes the familiar turn into the Phoenix, and heads inside. MacGyver follows him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clocks aren’t supposed to work the same way in dreams as they do in real life, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After making a ‘who, me?’ motion, MacGyver shrugs at him. “If you really can’t tell if this is real, are you sure you want to rely on clocks? All it’s going to tell you is that you’re running out of time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter,” Mac grumbles, “We don’t keep any clocks in the hallways.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Angus, who are you talking to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost comically, Mac spins on his heel, nearly falling over if it wasn’t for the wall. “Russ. Hi. I didn’t see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid that was obvious. Are you feeling alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking his head, Mac confirms, “Yeah, I’m fine. Where’s, um... Matty wanted to see me, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Russ’ face immediately falls. “Yes. She’s in the war room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s everyone else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bozer is with Miss Davis,” Russ cryptically answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scoffing, MacGyver mutters, “Well, that doesn’t sound suspicious at all. ‘You think Codex finally made their move? That could’ve been you, Mac. That could’ve been us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Doing his best to ignore him, Mac focuses on the short walk to the war room. “Matty?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Close the door.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Setting the iPad down on the table, Matty’s eyes soften. “Mac, I think you should sit down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine standing,” Mac replies, shoulders tightening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as he does so, MacGyver speaks up, “You know, based on how everyone’s acting, I think maybe you </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>sit down. Wouldn’t want to add to your head injury.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t a request, Blondie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally following her directions, Mac looks up. “What’s going on? Where are Riley and Boze?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If possible, Matty’s face softens even more than it was before. “We got word from Jack’s task force.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Mac whispers, already feeling his chest fall. “No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you wanted to wake up, right?” MacGyver asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Mac. Jack was killed yesterday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s awake!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac doesn’t know what’s happening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t even begin to process anything that’s happening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s on a ship, sailing across the ocean blue, with storm clouds in his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mac, hey buddy, can you hear me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With blurry, blinking eyes, Mac looks up. “Wh- Riley?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, there he is,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Mac didn’t know any better, he’d think that she has tears in her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, she definitely has tears in her eyes,” MacGyver announces, causing Mac’s entire body to flinch. “And you’re probably the reason for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mac, hey, you’re okay, you’re okay,” Riley soothes, running a hand through his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mac?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows that voice. “Des?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling, Riley answers. “Yeah, she’s up in the front, doing her pursuit driving. That’s why we’re taking every corner on two wheels.” With a wet smile, she continues, “Just like Jack, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now there are tears to mirror Riley’s. “Jack.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mac, what’s happening? Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? No. Nonono. He’s fine, Mac. We just Skyped him yesterday, remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a scrambled memory somewhere that seems like it’s right, but Mac can’t quite untangle it enough. “Why am I in the car?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Desi couldn’t wake you up this morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m awake now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At this point? Who knows,” MacGyver unhelpfully answers from the passenger seat. He isn’t wearing a seatbelt, and is twisting his entire body to look back at Mac, who’s horizontal in the backseat. His head is in Riley’s lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac knows that it isn’t his imagination when Desi presses a little harder on the gas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a good thing you have friends looking out for you,” MacGyver starts, glancing at the two women. “Such a shame that </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>going to be the ones to kill them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From above him, Riley shushes, “Just rest, Mac.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All seven billion people on the planet are going to die because of you, Mac. That’s one of our key differences. You’re selfish, and I’m not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Knowing that he’s not going to get anywhere in an argument with himself, Mac just curls further away from MacGyver.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With sad eyes, just like Matty’s were, Riley tries, “You’re okay. You’re okay, Mac.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where ‘re we going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Phoenix.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes,” MacGyver nods, “So they can tell you that Jack is dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minutely, Mac shakes his head. “It was just a dream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was a dream?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac blinks to see Riley’s concerned face. He isn’t exactly sure how to respond to that. “I- I dunno.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s gonna be okay, Mac.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Until you kill them,” MacGyver adds, clicking his tongue at the end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The entire car ride, real or not, is a complete blur to Mac. It’s bright, but each of the streetlights blend together as if it were still night. From his angle, Mac can look up and see each  lamp go by. It’s mesmerizing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you walk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Riley can respond, Mac hears Desi speak up. “I can carry him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” There’s a beat of silence, some unspoken conversation between the women, before Riley concedes, “Right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you ever find it weird,” MacGyver speaks up, closing the passenger side door after he gets out, “That you’re probably carried more as an adult than when you were as a child? I mean, mom carried us when she was still alive, but dad never did. And now you get hurt often enough that you’re carried quite a bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Desi’s footsteps feel like the ocean. Wave, after wave, after wave, even though it’s supposed to be step, after step, after step.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unlike last time, Mac isn’t brought to the labs, but instead the infirmary. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the corner, MacGyver mutters, “Now this is a familiar sight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell </span>
  </em>
  <span>was in there?” Mac would recognize Desi’s biting voice anywhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get that you’re worried-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Worried? That’s an understatement! Look at him, Matty!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though Mac strains to hear her response, all he gets is one from his double. “I wonder if Matty’s here to tell you that Jack’s dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time he zones back in, Riley’s voice appears, taking Desi’s side. “There’s always another way. That’s what Mac always says, and he would’ve found one. But you didn’t give him a chance!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re talking about you, you know,” MacGyver says, faux sighing. “It’s happened throughout our entire life. You’d think that it would’ve stopped when dad left us, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Mac.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking up, he can see one of the Phoenix nurses, a middle aged woman named Dawn. “I’m gonna draw a couple vials of blood. Just a little pinch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what this reminds me of?” Even when Mac doesn’t humor him with a response, MacGyver continues. “Murdoc. When he pushed the IV in and around our arm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Mac flinches, Dawn holds his forearm still with a hand by his elbow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See, just like the restraints.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, stop.” Mac can’t even tell if he’s speaking out loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evidently he was, because a second later Desi and Riley have stepped even closer. “You’re okay, Mac. It’s almost done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking between them, trying to figure out whose voice is jumping through his mind, Mac questions, “Is this real?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room falls silent for a few moments, before Matty announces, “I’ll call Casey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Casey Trejo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Phoenix’s onsite, always on call, psychiatrist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack used to call him ‘Double Doctor’ because he has an MD along with a PhD.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giving a dramatic wince as Matty leaves, MacGyver speaks up, “You probably shouldn’t have even opened your mouth. They’re going to think that you’re crazy now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can rest, but try not to fall asleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Each of Mac’s blinks feel like they take a full second. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Releasing his arm, Dawn reiterates, “You can, and probably should just rest, but if you can, try not to let yourself fall asleep. Not until we see how much DMT is still left in your system.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, Desi picks up the slack that his brain has brought. “I’ll keep an eye on him. I’m not leaving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a nod, Dawn announces, “We’ll put a rush on the blood samples, but I think that Mohammad will be down here even before they finish,” Before leaving with the vials.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Riley on one side and Desi on the other, it almost feels like it’s when he woke up in the lab. How long ago was that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you should find a clock,” MacGyver snickers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you feel, Mac?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a beat, Mac replies, “Confused. I think. Where’s Boze?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riley’s demeanor instantly changes, “Shit. I should go call him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go,” Desi points with her chin, “We’ll be fine here, I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What wonderful friends,” MacGyver calls out from the door frame. “Such a shame that their death will be on your hands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The best Mac can do right now is turn away from him. Any other indication and-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Desi will be suspicious, won’t she?” When Mac doesn’t reply, a drawn out, “Awkward,” fills the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Desi holds his left hand, fingers occasionally rubbing across his knuckles, and Mac puts all of his focus on that. Not his double standing just a few feet away, who doesn’t really exist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just because I’m a part of your brain doesn’t mean I don’t exist,” MacGyver says. “And frankly, I’m a little ashamed that you would say something like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clenching his jaw, Mac wants to scream back that he didn’t even say anything. All he did was think. The thing he’s been doing for his entire life. And now not even that’s safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a few blessed moments of relative silence, before a quiet knock on the door catches the attention of all of the room’s occupants. Including the ones that don’t exist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi Mac.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s familiar with Doctor Mohammad Ayala. He’s been at the Phoenix since it was still DXS, and although Mac has no grounds to prove this, he’s pretty sure that Mohammad has been here before James was Oversight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning to Desi, he requests, “Could we have the room?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s only a second of hesitation before Desi squeezes Mac’s hand one last time and nods. “Of course. I’ll be right outside, okay, Mac?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>MacGyver steps to the side as Desi leaves. “Will you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Director Webber brought me up to speed on yesterday’s events,” Doctor Ayala starts, cutting right to the chase. “And frankly, I’m not happy about it all. I don’t know why I was never consulted for that. So I apologize for that. How are you feeling right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chuckling at the typical response from Mac, he asks, “Any pain anywhere?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bit of a headache.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How bad? Scale of one to ten.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not bad,” Mac shakes his head. “Maybe a three?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, Alaya continues, “I’m going to tell you three words, and I want you to remember them, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jumping, boat, and music. Need me to repeat them?” After Mac shakes his head, Alaya puts the palm of his hand against Mac’s. “Press against me,” After a few seconds, he repeats the same thing with the other hand. “Do you know where you are, right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Mac can say anything, MacGyver has stolen the spotlight. “The real question is, do you know what universe you’re in right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Phoenix Med.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holding up a finger, Alaya requests, “Follow my finger.” After he’s evidently satisfied with Mac’s eyes, he asks, “Do you know what day it is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Saturday. April… eighteenth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the year?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least he doesn’t have to think twice about that one. “2020.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure?” If Mac could without looking suspicious, he’d send a nasty look to his double.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what season is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a nod, Alaya then asks, “Can you tell me your name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Angus MacGyver.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>MacGyver snorts. “It’s a shame he won’t ask me my name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What country are we in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though they’re only a few questions in, Mac can tell that this is going to get boring real fast. “The US.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What state are we in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moving to sit in the chair Desi had occupied, MacGyver questions, “Mentally, or…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“California.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a humorless laugh, MacGyver says, “Funny, I would’ve gone with denial. Denial that you’re going to be the reason that your friends die.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What city are we in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac could’ve answered all of these questions at once if he knew that were as simple as this. “Los Angeles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Starting at one hundred, can you count backwards by sevens?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ninety-three, eighty-six, seventy-nine, seventy-two, uh, sixty-five, fifty-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holding up a hand, Alaya interrupts, “That’s good. Do you remember the words I told you a few minutes ago?” After Mac nods, he asks, “Can you repeat them back to me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, a boat, jumping, and music.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you experiencing any double or blurred vision?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac wishes, more than anything, that Alaya would cave and show any type of physical response to his questions. For all he knows, he could be getting all of these wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sending him a look, MacGyver mutters, “All of them? C’mon Mac, you know better than that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Alaya nods. He then pulls a paper and pen out of the pocket on his coat, and holds them out to Mac. “Do me a favor and write any sentence on here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly taking the pen, Mac asks, “Does it need to include anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope. Whatever you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a good one,” MacGyver starts, “Do this: I am going to be the reason my friends die.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac’s knuckles turn white over the pen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, wait, do this one: I am going to kill my friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a swallow, he ends up writing, ‘Desi made me soup,’ before holding it up for Alaya to see it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s great, Mac.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh, patronizing,” MacGyver calls out. “I know that hurts us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“While you still have that paper, draw a clock for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s no way he could even attempt to block out MacGyver’s snickers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oblivious, Alaya continues, “The hands can be at whatever time you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Doing his best to ignore MacGyver’s comments about clocks and dreams, Mac completes his drawing, and albeit crude, he knows that it’s a clock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glancing down at it, Alaya nods, “Thank you. Now can you tell me what happened this morning?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blinking, Mac answers, “Waking up in a car. Riley and Desi were there. They brought me here, and, I dunno,” He shrugs. “That’s all?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about yesterday? After you woke up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When Desi got back from the mission, we went home, and she made soup.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling, Alaya notes, “Ah. Hence the sentence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s another knock on the door, before Dawn pokes her head in. “Mohammad? Blood results are back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking the file from her hands, he smiles. “Thank you,” Before flipping it open. Using all of his skills that he’s gained as an agent, Mac watches for anything on his face, any indication of what he’s reading.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Alaya has a perfectly schooled face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, he flips it closed. “Well, Mac, your cognitive functions are stellar, and I’m glad to hear that the only physical symptoms you’re experiencing is a mild headache. But because of what you went through yesterday, I know that Webber wants Doctor Trejo to talk with you, so I’ll go see when that can happen. Do you want any water or anything? I can get Dawn to get you something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking his head, Mac replies, “I’m fine. When can I go home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not before you see Doctor Trejo,” Comes Alaya’s non-answer. If you want anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” Setting his file on the counter beside him, Alaya puts the pad of paper and pen back in his pockets. “I’m going to go track down Webber, I’m sure she’s around. Do you want me to call the other agents back in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” Mac replies. If they’re going to be shooed out of the room when Trejo comes, there’s really no point. Plus, if they’re gone, he can finally acknowledge his double without getting looks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Alaya smiles, before the door clicks shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dramatically standing and wiping invisible dust on his pants, MacGyver walks over to the file left beside the sink. Without touching it, he whistles. “Yikes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t even see anything,” Mac mumbles, turning away. “You can only see what I can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure you don’t want to go look? I know when you’re curious, Mac. I’m you, after all. Just a better version of you. The point is, I know when you’re itching to know something. And this file is just singing to you, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There aren’t any footsteps outside the door, not close enough to be able to hear, anyway. If Mac were to peek at his file, he knows he wouldn’t be caught. Besides, it’s his own file. There’s nothing wrong with looking at that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Much to MacGyver’s delight, Mac swings his legs off the bed, and with wobbly legs, stands up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His blood work is the first page inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a nice printed set of columns, listing cholesterol, triglycerides, magnesium, phosphate, potassium, sodium, chloride, calcium, it seems to continue on and on. Mac’s not even sure what he should be looking for- he has no idea what the DMT was composed of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flipping it over, there’s a blue sticky note on the back, signed by one of the lab technicians.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No irregularities were found.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac rereads it two, three, four times. That doesn’t make sense. “That doesn’t make sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a grimace, MacGyver peers over his shoulder. “Yikes. You know what that means, don’t you, Mac?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This can’t be right.” Even though he isn’t sure what he’s hoping to find, Mac turns the paper back over, looking through all of the columns again. “There has to be something in my blood. There- there has to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The DMT’s all flushed out. There’s none left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flipping the file closed, Mac turns to his double. “There has to be!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>MacGyver gives him a devilish grin. “You saw it for yourself. There’s nothing inside of your blood. There’s no DMT left in you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can feel his heart speed up, and Mac doesn’t even bother to try and push the panic down. “Then why are you still here?! You can’t still be here. You can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shrugging, MacGyver gives him a half hearted look. “I don’t know what to tell you about that, Mac.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s an explanation for this. There has to be something in my blood!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But there’s not. There’s no DMT left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you’re still here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>MacGyver grins, lips curling into sharp angles.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No irregularities were found.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’m still here.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sooooo this has a bit of an open ended ending, which usually isn't my style. But there's a reason for that!</p><p>And that is because I lowkey highkey want to make this an AU, starting at 4x10. Basically it would be Mac living with MacGyver, because questionable drugs are questionable and should have long lasting side effects. I would tackle all of the plots and episode from 4x10 on, and I would do Jack justice (that's the only spoiler I'm giving so far lmao), because I think it would be a fun writing exercise, and another thing to focus on since I finished a book!</p><p>If you're interested in an AU like this, I'd love to know!!</p><p>I'd love to meet more of you guys, so come talk with me on <a href="https://appalachianapologies.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a> (AppalachianApologies) if you'd like! I'm always so down to meet new people :D</p><p>I love you all very much, and I hope you all are doing okay. If you find yourself in a bad or scary situation, here are some hotlines (Please keep in mind that the written out numbers are US hotlines)</p><p>National Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255<br/>National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673<br/>National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233</p><p>Experiencing symptoms that feel similar to the things I’ve written? You aren’t alone. If you have questions about schizophrenia, or other concerns about schizoaffective disorders, you can use this hotline: 1-800-950-6264</p><p>If you don't live in America and need someone to talk to, here's a list of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines">international hotlines.</a><br/>You are not alone, and I love you all &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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